


Firelight

by Shaymed



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Anarchaia - Freeform, F/M, Grimory - Freeform, soule
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-14
Updated: 2017-01-14
Packaged: 2018-09-17 09:47:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9317354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaymed/pseuds/Shaymed
Summary: Anarchaia and Grimory have a midnight affair in the woods.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Soule](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soule/gifts).



> Explicit NSFW requested by Soule. Grimory and Anarchaia belong to her alone.

_Crackle. Crackle._

The fire danced in the circle of stones. Light undulated across the surrounding area, creating monsters out of shadows. Anarchaia sighed at them, then poked a log with a stick. Shadow monsters were nothing compared to the vile creatures from her past. 

Grimory groaned in his sleep. Sweat beaded on his furrowed brow. She wondered what horrors his kind saw in their nightmares. Did he see demons or Wardens…or maybe he saw faces of the loved ones he might’ve lost to the Legion which made him choose the path of a demon hunter. Grimory growled. Anarchaia kneeled beside him. She pressed her palms to his chest and shook him.

“Grim, wake up! It’s only a dream!”

He snapped to sitting, the claws of his hands swiping wildly at her. Anarchaia’s hand around his wrist stopped him. Grimory took in his surroundings and sighed. “What are you doing?”

“You were having a nightmare. I think.”

He rubbed his palms down his face. “I’m sorry if I woke you.”

Anarchaia paused. “Oh…no, I—” She coughed. “What were you dreaming about?”

He studied her in the glimmering firelight, eyes following the lines of her body and over her subtle bosom. They rested for a moment on the hot center between her thighs as his fingers burned with the memory. How a woman could be that hot without boiling to death was beyond him.

He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Please?” She lifted her mask over her upper lip to give him a pleading grin.

“The things I’ve seen… I don’t think you’ve the stomach for such…brutality.”

Anarchaia snorted on her laugh. “If you say so.”

The darkness had consumed his features, but she could feel his gaze sweeping over her body, though his fel-burning eyes gave no indication to such. She knew he was studying her, undressing her with his eyes. He rubbed the side of his finger across his bottom lip. 

“Couldja stop it?” Anarchaia said.

The outline of his cheek shifted with his smirk. “Sorry I was just thinking.”

She didn’t need to ask what about as she yanked her mask over the bottom half of her face, as though through some unnatural phenomena she could blush and give herself away. Grimory’s eyes lit brighter. 

“How do you stay so hot and yet so cold?” he asked.

“I’m a fire mage.” She shrugged to emphasize it was the only reason she would give.

Grimory leaned back, resting the back of his head on the cool earth beneath him. He continued to glance over at her, though he said nothing. The silence around them was palpable and awkward. Grimory breathed in.

“Hey, look, Ysera is really shining tonight.”

Anarchaia stretched out beside him and looked up at the star-dotted sky. She reached up and traced the new constellation with her fingertip. Grimory reached out a tentative hand to touch hers, she pulled away, knowing what he would feel should he hold for too long. The bones of her fingers scraped together within her gloves as she made fists and rested them on her sternum. Grimory turned on his side and propped himself on an elbow to stare at her.

“I don’t get you.”

“Come again?”

“I don’t…understand you, I guess would be a better word.”

Anarchaia licked her lips as she thought. “What don’t you understand?”

“Well, for one, why did I have to take you on this—” His eyes went wide. “Did you fuck Khadgar?” Anarchaia’s mouth dropped open in shock as her mind scrambled for a response. “Oh my gods, you did!”

Ana slapped at him. “I so did no—”

“You did! You fucked him and now it’s awkward to be in the same room so he’s having me babysi—ow!” Grimory rubbed at his cheek where her fist had made impact.

“Don’t you ever say that. Don’t you dare _ever_ talk about Master Khadgar that way.”

“Geez An—”

“Got it?” She poked a finger into his sternum. 

“Poke me again and see what happens.” He narrowed his eyes at her. 

Ana smirked beneath her hood and decided to meet his challenge. Her finger prodded into his chest again. Grimory sprung forward to pin her to the ground, his chest pressed tight against hers. His hands snapped to her hood and yanked upward. Anarchaia gripped the sides so it wouldn’t go any higher than below her nose. Grimory pursed his lips, then surged forward to crush them against hers. 

“Mmm!” The smallest squeak of surprise exited her emptying lungs. 

Grimory pulled away, gasping. “Sorry. I just…”

The corner of her lips turned up in a smirk. “I know.”

He converged on her once more, slipping his tongue into the heat behind her cold lips. The extremes played at his senses and his pants strained to contain his enthusiasm. His palm traveled up her thigh, over her hip and into the dip of her narrow waist. After a moment’s hesitation, he spread his palm over her modest bust. Anarchaia sat up. Grimory skittered back, attempting to be subtle about adjusting his manhood within his trousers. 

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t—”

Anarchaia pulled her robe over her head. Grimory, in his enthusiasm, reached for her sleeve to unbutton her glove from the cloth. She batted his hand away. 

“No.” 

Grimory licked his lips. He reached for the button at the base of her collar and paused. Her lips curved into an inviting smile, so he slipped the golden button through the hole and waited for permission again. Anarchaia wove her fingers through his short hair, then ran a fingertip along the length of his horn. His body shivered in response. She pulled him closer to press her lips on his. Her hand found his wrist and guided him to pull the front of her shirt down until the blue areolae of her breasts were exposed. Grimory ran his fingertips along her side, counting the ribs he could feel and wondering for only a moment if she was eating enough, before he found the raised tips of her nipples. They stiffened beneath his touch, hardening as he pinched one between his thumb and forefinger. 

Anarchaia moaned and bit at his bottom lip, then ran her hot tongue along his lips. She sucked at them and Grimory sighed at the strange kisses. With slow determination he kissed down her chin, her neck, her collar. At her sternum the floral perfume surrounded him and hinted where she applied it most prominently. Normally he might’ve coughed at the strength, but for some reason it overwhelmed him and riled his desire. 

Grimory purred in his throat as he circled his lips around the tip of her breast. The sound vibrated from his mouth and shocked Anarchaia deep within her most feminine place. Grimory’s tongue circled around and around her nipple; she gripped his thigh tight as her lungs pulled in instinctual breaths of pleasure. His tongue flicked once. Twice. She gasped and jerked in response. He gave attention to the other breast as his fingers teased the top of her pants open, searching for that heat he desired above all else in that moment. She spread her legs to let his digits in and he was welcomed by the slick, hot folds of her flower. 

Anarchaia lowered her head to moan into his hair and bite at his ear. His fingers curled at the tips to find the right spot within her and tease against it. She reached in desperation to his own trousers and ripped at the cords tying them closed. His member sprung free into her grasp and she did her best to wrap her hand around the shaft. 

Grimory grunted. “Those damned gloves.”

She ran the tip of her tongue down the length of his ear, then nibbled at the lobe. “The gloves stay.” She gasped as he shoved his fingers deeper into her. 

He brought his head up to meet her gaze with a devilish smirk. “If you insist.”

“I ins—oh!—insis—ah!—” Anarchaia pressed a hand to her forehead as he found all the right places to stroke within her. “Yes!” She gasped out.

“You like this?”

“Yes. No. I mean yes. I mean—ah!—the gloves—”

“Okay, Ana, the gloves stay on.” He pulled his fingers out. She pressed her hand to his to force him back in. “Let go.” 

She shook her head and moved her hips against his fingers. He shoved deeper and pressed into one of her secret spots. She threw her hand back to catch herself as she arced backward and screamed at the treetops. Grimory removed his fingers and hooked his glistening hand over the top of her waistband. He pulled at the fabric, urging it down her pale skin that seemed almost blue in the moonlight. His fingertip touched on something and Anarchaia jerked up to grab his hand away from her leg. 

“Oh, for gods’ sakes, Ana, what now?”

“Nothing! I just, I, um, it’s, uh, it’s…cold out and I—”

“Okay, okay I’ll go get more firewoo—”

She pulled him into desperate kisses, slicking his lips with her own sweet tongue. Her hand worked against his shaft to make sure he stayed hard. 

“Fuck me,” she hissed in his ear. 

She urged him up and yanked his pants below his ass, then tugged hers a few inches down her thigh. Grimory opened him mouth to question, but Anarchaia spun around, throwing herself to all fours in front of him. Her legs were clenched together, her pink center full with desire and slick with lust. Grimory bent first and tasted the ripe flower, licking along the folds to sample the sweet nectar of her. He straightened and paused.

“Are you sure you—”

“Shut up, Grim.”

“You don’t look like—”

She gripped his thigh and pulled him forward. “It’ll fit.”

“Are you sure?”

“Just fuck me, dammit!”

Grimory eased his member into the pink opening, pausing to listen for an objection. All he heard was a soft moan. Anarchaia gripped his pants again and jerked him into her. She screamed out one quick note as his girth stretched her wide and his length stopped him from entering to his base. Grimory groaned as the heat of her burned at his sensitive skin. He pulled his length out, then thrust back in, smirking as she screamed out again. He teased her again and again, listening to her sounds and growing more lustful as she vocalized her pleasure. Out, slow like a controlled pull of a bowstring. In, like the shot when the arrow is loosed. Out, until his head tickled at the folds of her womanhood. In, like a stream charging through the banks. And with each movement Anarchaia felt it rising within her, felt her own explosive ecstasy growing.

Grimory wrapped his fingers around her hips and pulled, shoving deeper into her. She screamed and he paused. Then he continued and she screamed more. He pulled until he filled her to the base, his tip pressing against her insides, farther than it had gone before. Anarchaia didn’t stop moaning, calling out to the night as he molded her to fit him. He pulled out, then thrust back in, every inch of him caressing the sensitive flesh within her. He pulled out then thrust again, each time filling her to his hilt. Grimory gripped her hips, and let himself go, thrusting faster and faster. He growled in his chest as her screams echoed through the darkness, bouncing from the trees to surround him. His nails dug into the skin at her hips as he let his own groans of pleasure join with hers. 

Anarchaia pushed against the ground, forcing herself onto him harder and harder as she matched his rhythm. Then it found her, the sweet release she had felt building inside her. It blossomed from between her thighs, spreading up her belly and out into the flesh still left to her limbs. Her lips jolted and numbed over. She screamed out until the nighttime creatures took off in a frightened flurry and her throat stung. The sensation ebbed away, her lower muscles pulsed around his member still sliding in and out of her slick folds. Then it built back up and soon she was screaming again. 

Grimory growled, sweat beaded on his skin and ran tantalizing trails downward to join with the wet mess Anarchaia was making between them. His skin burned in the cold night, but inside her she was still hot and inviting. Her skin, though, was cool to the touch and no sweat slicked her back. He ignored this as he ran a smoothing palm up her spine, feeling the little knobs of her vertebrae. His fingers slipped beneath her hood and tangled in her hair. She grabbed his wrist and set his hand on her shoulder. The hood really was off limits. 

Anarchaia screamed out again as she burst with ecstasy. It trailed down her thighs to be caught by the fabric of her pants. Some dripped from Grimory’s shaft as he withdrew. It splashed to the ground as a rain of feminine delicacy.

“C-cum!” she demanded. “Cum for me!”

Grimory gasped as her words urged his own finish closer. It rose at the base of his manhood, then exploded within her as a violent firework, bursting with the fire of his loins. He didn’t stop thrusting into her, dragging out his own pleasure as long as he could. 

Something strange happened, then. He felt it building up again. She screamed as he thrust harder and faster than he had before. Anarchaia’s hands slipped along the soil and she had to brace herself against a thick, exposed root to keep from falling. 

Grimory bent and teased the skin at her back with his sharp teeth, she shuddered under the sensation. Then with his own euphoric cry, he came again, filling her with his ardor. 

Legs shaking he pulled out of her and dropped to sitting. She gasped at his exit, then turned to observe him. He was shaking, running his hands through his hair as he tried to catch his breath, but his eyes remained fixed on the swollen pink organ, now dripping with the white of his release. 

Anarchaia rolled onto her back and pulled her pants up, then buttoned her shirt and put her hands behind her head as she stared at the stars twinkling overhead. They said nothing for a long time as he lay panting beside her, his arms numb and abandoned on the ground beside him. His softening manhood glistened in the dying firelight as he left his pants around his thighs.

“Here.” Anarchaia urged his trousers back up to his hips and secured him within the ties. 

He stared at her as she propped her chin on a fist, casting her goofy grin to the diminishing fire. “Ana—”

“I better get more wood before that goes out.” She stood and left him there, lying on the ground, helpless to chase after her. 

His mind swirled in chaotic patterns, replaying every second he spent within her, but in some strange psychedelic trip where nothing was colored right and the movements smeared together like oil paint. 

By the time Anarchaia returned with a large bundle of wood in her grasp Grimory was fast asleep, his face turned to the dying embers in the ring of rocks, his chest raising and lowering with steady breaths. She set to quiet work rebuilding the fire, using her magic to urge it back to a cheery crackle. As she sat on the log, not truly feeling the heat of the flames, she watched him sleep. She found herself yearning. Not for him, but for sleep. But if she did sleep, what horrors would she see?

Anarchaia sighed and scooted to the ground, picked up her quill and journal, and began scribbling away.


End file.
